Famine (The Four Horsemen #3) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,29

from the room, a scowl on his face. “Meet me in the stables. You have five minutes.”

I use those five minutes to raid the house’s pantry. I do manage to find some cake, along with a few other treats. No brewed coffee, unfortunately. I do find a knife, but there’s literally nowhere to store it while traveling, except maybe my boot. But again with my luck, I’d probably end up jabbing myself with it. So I leave the knife behind.

When I finally meet Famine just outside the stables, he’s frowning at me again. I think this is becoming a thing for him, where I’m concerned.

His ferocious black horse is saddled and waiting, and his men linger nearby, readying their own horses.

Not for the first time, my situation feels surreal. Forget that I’ve survived through the destruction of two separate cities, or that I live in biblical times. Simply the fact that I went from nursing this man to health to attacking him to being his semi-willing prisoner is strange enough as is.

I dust off the last of the cake from my fingers.

He notices the action, his frown deepening. “You’re late.”

A mistake I intend on repeating so long as the two of us are together.

“Just be happy I didn’t run again,” I say. Not that I really, truly would. Stabbing him requires close proximity.

He studies me with those unsettling eyes for a moment. Then, the corner of his mouth curves up.

Uh oh.

“If you are so determined to escape me,” he says, “then perhaps I need to treat you as a proper prisoner.”

I give him a perplexed look even as the Reaper moves over to his horse. “You have been treating me like a prisoner.” What does he think he’s been doing with me over the last twenty-four hours?

Famine reaches into one of his saddlebags. I hear the clang of something heavy right before he pulls out a pair of iron manacles.

Iron. Manacles.

Because of course this freak would just have a spare pair tucked away.

Crossing back over to me, he catches my wrist.

“Hey—”

I try to jerk out of his grip, but it’s useless. A moment later, Famine begins clamping the heavy shackles on.

“What are you doing?” A note of panic has entered my voice.

The horseman finishes one wrist and grabs my other. “Now, if only there was something for your mouth …”

I take a steadying breath. “Don’t you think this is a bit overdone?” I say.

I mean, I haven’t run. This is all just bluster.

My skin pricks as I feel the stares of Famine’s men.

Rather than responding, the Reaper leads me towards a dark bay horse. Grabbing me under the arms, he hoists me onto the beast.

“Really?” I deadpan, looking down at him. “I’m supposed to wear cuffs while riding a horse? Now this is most definitely overkill.”

“Not my problem,” the Reaper says, walking back towards his steed.

I scowl at my horse. “You do realize that I could simply …” I was going to say ride away, but before I finish the sentence I realize that the horse isn’t wearing any reins; instead, the creature is bound by a length of rope to one of Famine’s mounted men.

“So, does this mean we’re going to another town?” I call out to Famine.

He ignores me completely.

“Are we?” I ask a man passing by.

He ignores me too.

“Anyone?” I say. “Anyone at all? Do any of you useless sacks of shit know where we’re going?”

“Shut the fuck up,” someone says.

“Don’t talk to her,” Famine warns his men.

I can’t tell if he’s saying it in a how dare you talk to my lady that way or a don’t instigate her kind of way. Probably the latter because he’s a maniacal jerk. But you never know.

It takes a little longer for the rest of the group to finish gathering up whatever supplies they need, but soon enough, the small gang of us begin to move.

The moment Famine prods his horse into action, the beast takes off like he’s been unleashed. The two of them gallop ahead of us, moving farther and farther away before the Reaper doubles back, returning to us.

For a moment both man and horse look as though they’re free. The horseman’s bronze armor catches the light as he closes in on us. That sun seems to love him, the rays highlighting his toffee colored hair and making his mossy eyes glitter. He looks like a prince ripped out of a fairytale.

When he reaches us, he stops up short, causing his men to, in turn, halt